97

I fall asleep on the moving chair

the surrounding tick of a clicking clock

And the tangling of my insides ralling for another air

at that pace sounds the old weeping tears of a coming bright

Behold there over a running sky

my whispering of a telling lie

echoing soundness of a dying day

placed upon the emptying talk

my darling oh fairer take that as a loving hand

its there, for you, itself, to send me another lie

Im prying with my standing mind

a thinner, thinkering astounding bye

i´ll be lightining on my steering of your tempting kind

start a raid on the backyard there

my arms lifting the moon above you

a playing of the children came

what i have done you really felt to

in thy birthing oh my plain ol’ rare

i’ve never thought i could be split in two

a risking in the time to bear

i swear i’m not showing off a virtue

the winding while it disturbs your hair

or a place where theres no more earth

as if someone has on to me done voodoo

like a cute whitesy fare

a moment to just hold on there

i assure you the inspiration here

had nothing to do with ears

or the writings done real clear

of a never being after kiss